


His Son

by mixgoldenphoenix



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 'The Future', Character Study, Coda, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 21:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10772652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixgoldenphoenix/pseuds/mixgoldenphoenix
Summary: Lucifer gets a quick visit from his boy, and it's not what he expected.





	His Son

**Author's Note:**

> I had a mighty need.

It’s dark when he sees him. Dagon went silent--dead--what feels like ages ago. _Big deal,_ he had tried to tell himself. _She was useless, anyway._ But it _was_ a big deal. Damn demon had lost his son. His son! And, oh, how lucky she had been, to die before he could lay his hands on her. How _infuriatingly_ lucky.

But it’s fine. Everything’s fine. Because he _sees_ him, his boy, a future vision of his childish body standing like a beacon of light in the darkness. _I_ am _the Lightbringer,_ he muses to himself, a self-satisfied smirk playing at his incorporeal lips. Pride. His major character flaw. It beats out his relief upon seeing his child, his greatest achievement, the best way to spit in his _Father’s_ face, by only a margin. In the physical world, his body slumps unceremoniously in a throne of Crowley’s making. On this plane of mental tricks, he stands ramrod straight, delight causing his grace to swell and show off.

“Well, well, well,” Lucifer purrs. “The prodigal son returns.” His anger over why the boy’s _missing_ simmers beneath his jovial mask.

His son merely stares back at him, eyes unreadable. He’s beautiful. Of course, he _could_ be better, if he didn’t have that pesky human soul tarnishing his grace. But his power? Near infinite. _Perfect._

“I don’t suppose you could tell me where you are, could you?” Lucifer asks, voice that sickly sweet tone parents often use.

Silence is his answer. Silence and a stare that’s starting to become unnerving.

Something’s wrong. It annoys Lucifer. His smile fades, but he catches it at the last moment, slaps it back on his lips when he remembers he’s supposed to be the _good_ father. Better than his…

“What’s the matter? No love for your dear ol’ dad?” Bitterness claws at him.

_Now,_ his boy reacts. Eyes blink and become sharper, _angrier_ , as he squares his thin shoulders at Lucifer. The light of his grace moves around him, agitated. Lucifer watches the display in wonder. He’s amused by the sheer amount of _attitude_ such a small body can convey. He scoffs at the sight.

“Oh, please, don’t tell me: _Uncle Castiel_ \--” Lucifer doesn’t know whether to snarl or gag, “--told you all about the _big, bad Devil~_ Your old man’s just some deadbeat who never comes to your birthday parties and skimps out on his child support? Hey! It’s not my fault I’m in jail right now. Honest! ...Okay, so every criminal says that, but--”

“Did you send Dagon after Mommy?”

“ _Mommy?_ ” Lucifer sneers, disgusted by the sound of it. “The _container_ , you mean?”

His son’s grace whips violently, power swirling in rage, as his eyes flash a familiar gold. His voice becomes a psychic blast, the physical sensation of a clap of thunder.

Lucifer inhales sharply, caught off-guard by a vision, a memory, of judgment and a flash of silver. Hesitance, hurt, confusion, wrath, grief. He’s taken a step back before he knows it, and it’s one step too many.

“We didn’t like her,” the boy says. “I killed her.”

Lucifer shrugs. He pretends it’s at the news. “Like father, like son.”

“Leave us alone.”

It’s a command, not a request, and Lucifer is stunned into silence. He stares at his boy in disbelief. “I know I didn’t just hear that.”

“You did.”

Lucifer points at his chest, “Are you _sassing_ me?”

His son’s grace calms and retracts into his form. Their connection is weakening and Lucifer knows his child plans to leave. _Without_ telling him where he’s at.

“I don’t want anyone else to hurt Mommy.”

“Son--” The words _be reasonable_ die in his throat. They twist inside him like a knife.

He’s left alone, chains heavy on his skin. He laughs. “I always was the rebellious one.” The words are hollow.

Panic. He hates the feeling. Hates it more than most. His child is being stolen from him. Damn Dagon. Damn _Kelly_. Damn Castiel and the Winchesters and the pissant that currently sits on his throne.

He screams for the second time in such a short while, his angelic voice screeching with his wrath and fear. But the demons that hear him are _more_ afraid, as well they should be, because nothing will keep him from his son. _Nothing._


End file.
